


it's just you and me and all our fears

by Laora



Category: Gundam 00
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Gundam 00 Week 2017, all of the Meister angst, beware of the fridge horror of Allelujah's time in prison, but he's still around so I dunno if that really counts, spoilers through 2x3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-15 23:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10559260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laora/pseuds/Laora
Summary: A Gundam Meister is never alone…and even in the terrible aftermath of Fallen Angels, Lockon Stratos will make sure of it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Gundam 00 Week happening over on Tumblr (g00week), for the prompt '04'—taken to mean the four years between seasons as well as the Gundam Meisters. (Sorry it's a day late!)
> 
> I've been trying to wrangle this fic for over a year, and I'm really, really glad I finally managed it! It's vaguely chronological, but don't hold it hard and fast to that rule—forgive me any timeskips. I hope they aren't too jarring!
> 
> Spoilers through 2x3. Scene 9 has some brief descriptions of a surgery before the break and a mention of vomit after, if you dislike that sort of thing.
> 
>  
> 
> [NinthFeather has drawn _incredible_ art of the first scene of this fic; PLEASE check it out!](http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=62292746)

1—

You wake lying down on a cot with a gun pointed between your eyes, and when you look down the trembling barrel you see the white, horrified face of one of your best friends.

"Tieria?" It slips out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, before you remember that this particular man would be more willing than most to shoot and _kill_ without a second thought. But why he would hurt _you_ , a coworker if not a friend, is beyond you—

"Who are you?" he demands, his grip on the gun only growing more tenuous, and your brows furrow as you look up at him with your one good eye.

"What—?"

"You're _dead,_ " Tieria snarls, and you realize that you have no evidence to counter this very convincing argument. Moments ago—it is true—you are sure you were floating in space, waiting for the Arms to blow, feet from you. But now you are in what appears to be a cabin on Krung Thep, and Tieria Erde is holding you at gunpoint, and though your eye is still gone, the pain consuming you only moments ago has disappeared.

"I thought I was," you say, because Tieria seems to expect an answer, though you're not sure what could pacify him when you have never seen your stoic friend so horrified. "I mean..."

You trail off, though, as you realize exactly how bad of shape Tieria is in. He's moving under his own power, and is clearly well enough to hold and aim a gun (still pointed at your head), but his skin is unnaturally pale, and there are bandages creeping up below the neckline of his civvies, and the shaking isn't (entirely) due to righteous fury and abject horror.

"What happened to you?" you demand, shoving yourself up on your elbows as your remaining eye widens—even as Tieria's grip on the gun tightens instinctively. "Are you all right?"

"Am I _all right?_ " Tieria nearly chokes, and you realize immediately that the answer is no. "You—"

Tieria does choke, then—he _chokes,_ and you realize suddenly that the brightness of his eyes behind those sharp glasses is not something to be ignored. "I'm the _only one left,"_ he snarls, then, and your eye widens. "Allelujah and Setsuna are gone, and you're _dead,_ and now—"

He seems unable to continue, the gun shaking even more now as he stares down at you, and you have not seen such hatred and rage directed at you in months and months from this man you have easily come to call a friend. "Tieria," you start again, glancing from the gun's barrel back up to your friend's face. You're not sure what's going on—you have _no fucking idea_ what's going on, actually—but you know you need to pacify him before he does something incredibly stupid. And so you reach up slowly, deliberately, and reach toward his hands, intending to gently take the gun from his grip.

Both of you stare as your hand goes straight through his own.

You only blink for a moment at the sight of your hand half-submerged in Tieria's wrist before you realize exactly how strange this looks; though it is not painful or even uncomfortable, you're overcome with sudden nausea at the sight, and quickly pull your hand away, curling it in your lap, your breathing coming heavier.

It's shocked Tieria just as much, though; he drops the gun a few inches, and his eyes widen further as he stares down at you. "What is this?" he asks, his voice hoarse, and you don't think you've ever seen your friend look so lost.

You do not know the answer, and Tieria only stares at you for a moment longer before he flees the room.

* * *

2—

You must have fallen asleep, because when you open your eye again you're in an unfamiliar apartment. It's sparsely decorated and dimly lit, and your vision takes a moment to adjust.

Even as a—a ghost, or hallucination, or whatever the hell you are, your non-body has decided to stay as human as possible. Excellent. You decide to be angry about this just as soon as you figure out _what the fuck is going on._

Eventually, you realize that it's a studio apartment, and that there is a figure curled up on the mattress nearby; it takes you a moment to realize who it is, but when you do, you push yourself up quickly, swearing under your breath. Setsuna is all but burrowed under his thin blanket, shivering in the winter cold, and his hair is tangled and greasy in a way that tells you he hasn't taken care of himself for quite a while.

"Setsuna?" you ask, perhaps more loudly than you should, but Tieria was in bad shape; if—if there was another battle, after you killed al-Saachez, then that would explain Tieria's injuries, and the fact that he said Setsuna and Allelujah were—

He did not say they were dead, only that they were missing—but Setsuna is _here,_ in what must be his apartment in Japan, when he could be getting medical treatment at Krung Thep, and why—?

"Setsuna!" you say, a little louder this time, and he jerks then, his eyes flashing as he pulls something from beneath his pillow. You swear as you recognize the barrel of a gun, throwing yourself out of the way a moment before your friend pulls the trigger.

"Setsuna, it's me!" you say loudly beyond the ringing in your ears, hoping he disarms. After all, though your hand went through Tieria's easily enough, you don't think you want to test your skull against a bullet. He does hesitate, then, blinking with a frown in your direction. "What are you doing out here?" you demand, because while Celestial Being's youngest Meister has a tendency to make foolish decisions, you know he's intelligent enough to realize when he needs proper medical attention. "Why aren't you with the others?"

He doesn't answer you, though—his eyes only widen as he seems to recognize you for the first time. "Lockon?" he asks, hope coating his voice like you have never heard before, and yes, you know you're supposed to be dead, but you're here and Setsuna is clearly unwell, and so you shove aside his questions as you press—

"Why aren't you at Krung Thep with the others?"

"They're dead," Setsuna says as his face falls, like it's obvious, like you should know this already. "You are, too."

Kid thinks he's hallucinating—definitely not a good sign. "They're not," you insist, leaning forward, now certain that Setsuna won't shoot you. "I just saw Tieria, he's still alive—you've gotta get back to them!"

"You're dead," Setsuna says again, his face falling in consternation as he stares at you in the dim light.

"Yeah, but I'm still here," you say, because the strangeness of this situation isn't the important thing, here. Setsuna is still holding his right side gingerly with his left hand, still very carefully not moving his trunk, and you can see his features tight in pain as he stares at you. He needs a doctor, not a dark apartment in the middle of absolutely _nowhere_ —and you tell him so.

"Saji took me to the hospital," Setsuna says, rather defensively—even as he winces, clutching his side a little tighter. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," you insist, because you know exactly how much Setsuna hates doctors and hospitals in general—and it's clear he didn't allow himself the full recovery time necessary to heal his wounds. Whoever Saji is (for you do not recognize the name as one of Celestial Being's contacts), he clearly didn't care enough about Setsuna to see him through his treatment properly. "Get yourself back out to space—"

But Setsuna is leaning back slowly onto his mattress, his face tightening in pain as you can only look on, your worry spiking. "Lockon… Stratos…" he whispers, barely audible, and you lean forward on instinct, ready to help in any way you can—but then his eyes flutter shut, and his grip on his ribs falls limp, and you swear again as you lean forward to check his pulse.

Your shaking fingers go straight through Setsuna's neck, and you don't think you've ever felt so powerless in all your life.

* * *

3—

You're more surprised than you should be when you next wake at Allelujah's side.

You do not recognize the medical bay he is in—can only see that he is in a high-tech regeneration pod, and blood is yet leaking beneath the bandages covering his head. His hair is askew, no longer covering his right eye, and you fight the impulse to reach in and fix it for him—he has always seemed so self-conscious about it, after all. Especially as he's unconscious in a strange hospital, you're sure he'd appreciate it.

But you know your touch will do nothing, and so you only wring your hands before you, hovering over an unconscious Allelujah and wondering how severe his injuries are. He's clearly been well cared for, because this regeneration pod looks just as sophisticated as Celestial Being's—but for him to still be under, when Tieria and Setsuna are at least out of any immediate danger, is alarming, to be sure. He has head trauma, obviously, but if the battle was as bad as it seems—

You weren't there when you should have been; you left your friends to fend for themselves. Though you cannot bring yourself to feel regret for dying to kill al-Saachez, if any of your friends are dead as well—

A door opens behind you, suddenly, and you spin around, your hand reaching for a gun that isn't there. You swear violently when you realize who's there, though—a military officer, flanked by several men of lower rank, strides in like he owns the place, a smug smile on his face as he looks straight through you to Allelujah.

"And how is the patient, Doctor?" he addresses a man in a lab coat to your left that you hadn't noticed. "How long will it be until he's awake?"

"At least another week, Sir," the younger man says, glancing to diagnostics and vital signs on his terminal. "With the concussion he sustained…"

The man tuts, stepping forward a bit, and you bare your teeth, planting your feet and pulling up your fists though you realize that you can do less than nothing to stop him. "Be sure to tell us when he wakes," he says, with the air of a man who's said this several times. "My superiors would like to begin questioning him right away."

"Of course, Sir," the doctor says immediately, and you bear the uncomfortable feeling of the officer stepping _through_ your body to peer down through the glass at Allelujah.

"Quite young, for an international terrorist," he says, as if surprised, but you can see something smug and dangerous behind his eyes as you step to the side. "Maybe that'll make it easier to break him down in interrogation, hm?"

You swear, loudly, and throw a reckless punch at the back of this smug man's head—but it sails through him like smoke, just as it has everyone else, and the man pays you no mind as he gestures to his entourage, leading them out of the room.

The doctor frowns at Allelujah before turning back to his work, apparently unbothered by the fact that this man had just suggested he be _tortured for information,_ and you swear again, turning sharply to stare down at your friend's face. If Allelujah is as badly injured as this man claims, then he was likely captured unconscious—has no idea of where he is, right now.

And when he wakes up, he'll be subject to awful, violent interrogation with no rescue in sight.

* * *

4—

You think that maybe you should be more concerned with how or why you've ended up in this situation, but the next thing you know, you're in a hangar on Krung Thep, and Tieria is helping Ian with what looks like the wreckage of Nadleeh.

You remember exactly how badly he reacted to your presence the last time, and do not want to run the risk of Ian reacting similarly—so you backpedal quickly, trying to find a dark corner of the hangar where you will not be seen. But Tieria turns, then, handing off a wrench to a haro and accepting a soldering iron—and his eyes fall on you.

His face twists in horror, and he pushes off instinctively, shoving himself away from you—nearly fumbling the iron in a way that makes you cry out in alarm. But Tieria is able to recover himself, and nobody else turns as your voice echoes through the large room—and you come to the conclusion that, just like with the military, nobody but Tieria can hear you.

But why? Why can only your fellow Meisters see you, (mostly) back from the dead?

Tieria makes a valiant effort to act normally, catching himself on some scaffolding and pointedly not looking in your direction as he ignores Ian's worried call. He turns his back to you (and that stings more than it should), only maneuvering himself back up to the cockpit, clearly set on pretending you are not here.

You frown at his retreating back but decide after a moment that you can respect that. You eventually make your way to the door, wondering whether Tieria's and Ian's presence means the others have survived as well.

You haven't been to Krung Thep in a few years, but you spent so much time in the hangars that you know the way to and from them like the back of your hand—you push quickly for the living quarters, hoping you can catch sight of someone else you recognize. But the people you pass (through, sometimes) are strangers who do not so much as glance your way—and the sting of being ignored is only slightly assuaged by the fact that you know they cannot see you.

The living quarters are nearby, and you only realize you have no way of knowing whose room is whose when you arrive. But you see a flash of pink, down the hall, and hurry that way—wondering with hope whether this is Feldt.

It is; she's walking with Orange Haro and carrying a tray of food in her hands as she hurries purposefully down the hallway. You follow her, curious (resisting the urge to call after her, because Feldt ignoring you would hurt worse than Celestial Being's strangers), until she reaches a locked door; she shifts the tray to one hand, knocking with her left, calling out, "Miss Sumeragi?"

You suck in a breath at confirmation that another of your friends is yet alive—but Miss Sumeragi does not open her door, or even respond to Feldt's call—and she sighs before looking to Orange Haro, who propels himself forward, interfacing with the door for a moment before it finally slides open.

Feldt lets herself in, and you're quick to follow, worried for your (former) commander's health. The room is a mess—empty bottles of alcohol are everywhere, tossed carelessly once their drink was spent, spilling their last drops into the air; the trash is overflowing with tissues. You're sure the room reeks of vomit and alcohol, though you cannot sense these things yourself. Miss Sumeragi herself is curled up on her bed, facing away from the door and hugging herself, and she does not so much as twitch when you and Feldt enter the room.

"Miss Sumeragi, you have to eat," Feldt says gently, putting the tray down on the desk before turning to her. "Everyone's worried, even Tieria—you should—"

"Thank you, Feldt," she cuts her off, and the defeated tone to her voice has you stepping forward in concern. "I'm not feeling well enough to come out today."

"That's what you've said for the past month," Feldt says sharply. "You can't just stay in your room, we _need_ you—"

Miss Sumeragi swallows. "You need a tactical forecaster that doesn't kill half of your crew," she says, very quietly, and your stomach drops. "Please, leave me alone."

Feldt hesitates, glancing between the half a dozen bottles still on her desk, before gathering them up in her arms. "Please eat," she says, eventually, turning toward the door. "You're not doing any favors to those of us who're left."

* * *

5—

You're not really sure how much time has passed when next you see Setsuna, but at the very least he's on his feet, wandering a busy open-air market with a basket and purchasing food to sustain himself.

His face is still worryingly gray, and his gait is too stiff to be comfortable, but his relative health brings you great relief as he wanders the market. You find yourself following him from a distance, watching in mild bemusement as Setsuna does something so benign and _civilian_ as grocery shopping. This is tempered, a bit, by the way he freezes at the sight of you across a stall, as his hand stills over a bunch of grapes.

You hold his gaze until the merchant says something sharply in Japanese; Setsuna replies, clipped and dismissive, and then he steps away, jerking with his head for you to follow. You oblige silently, catching up with him by virtue of your steadier gait and the perk of passing through crowds like smoke. When Setsuna turns around, under the cover of a deserted stall, you are right behind him—and you wish the discomforted look on his face is due to your proximity, rather than your presence at all.

"Glad to see you're doing better," you say, to break to silence, and Setsuna's jaw clenches as he stares up at you.

"I thought I was hallucinating," he says quietly, and you're not entirely sure he's wrong for the way passers-by give him strange looks for talking to the air. "Last month, in my apartment."

 _Last month._ There's been quite a time gap, then, and you're just worried enough about this to belabor the point until Setsuna continues, "Why are you here?"

"I'm not really sure," you say, because it's the truth, and Setsuna's face twists at the obtuseness of it as you wince. "Tieria tried to shoot me too, when I saw him. But I'm—not solid, see." You reach to the stall beside you (even _attempting_ to touch Setsuna, you know, would end very badly) and send your hand sailing straight through the support beams. Setsuna's eyes grow wide at that, and he stares at your arm half-submerged in a piece of wood before swallowing and turning to look at you again.

"Tieria's dead," he says, just as he did the last time, and you frown, pulling your hand back and ready to dispute him—"So are you."

"I don't know what's going on," you say brusquely, because this isn't really the important part of this conversation, "but I've seen Tieria with my own eyes—and Feldt and Sumeragi and Ian, too."

"Eyes," Setsuna echoes blankly, his gaze lingering on the eyepatch that has followed you into death, and you swallow. You haven't had the opportunity (or, truly, the guts) to take it off, to see what remains there, but you frown at him; you're getting off topic again, and there's something else, too.

"Allelujah's alive too," you say, and Setsuna's face twists. "But the government—"

"They've put his face all over the news," Setsuna cuts you off, his free fist clenching as if wishing there were a gun there. "He's as good as dead."

He's obviously distressed by this fact, and you can see his thought process easily: Allelujah will tell the government nothing about Celestial Being, no matter what tortures they threaten him with, and a prisoner who will not give up secrets is not worth the resources that keep him alive. You swallow, because he's probably right, but you saw him alive not long ago and so you must hope—"He's alive for now," you say, with more strength than you feel, and Setsuna stares up at you, his face unreadable. "If you can find the others—"

"The others are dead," Setsuna says, his tone harder, "and Allelujah is gone. I will continue our mission, but anyone who could help me is gone."

You open your mouth, outraged, but he is done with the conversation—and as he storms back into the crowds of people, you cannot bring yourself to follow.

* * *

6—

Your vision takes a moment to adjust, but when it does, you mutter a low oath, stepping forward with hands outstretched though you know you can do less than nothing.

You're in a dim cell—this you realize easily—and the only person within it is Allelujah, strapped to a chair with something awful covering his mouth…his head pitched forward, hair covering his face.

You call his name without thinking and he jerks, his head snapping up and turning toward you as you stop only a few feet from him. His eyes—mismatched, obvious even in this darkness, and you wonder but do not bother to ask—widen as he stares at you, and something escapes his throat. It's muffled behind the gag beyond understanding, and rage rises in your chest. It's a familiar feeling, though only rarely on others' behalf—and you take another step forward, one hand still outstretched as if to tear his bindings, to rip the gag away.

 _How are you here_ is obvious in his body language but you also feel it reverberating within your own mind; but this should be more confusing than it is, and you largely ignore it for the moment. Allelujah still looks unwell, with dark bags beneath his eyes and his hair lank and unwashed as he stares up at you, his eyes painfully wide and disbelieving.

"Are you all right?" you ask, and immediately regret it because of course he's not all right—he's a prisoner of war, at the mercy of the government that hates him, and—and—

Allelujah seems not to notice your question, only stares at you, that same demand all but emanating from him. "I'm…I'm still dead," you say, and confusion flashes across his face, followed quickly by despair—and _hallucination_ dampens the hope and joy on his face and in your mind. "But I'm—still here, somehow. And…"

And you think you might have been sent to temper Tieria's rage and grief, to ensure Setsuna returns safely to space, but…what can you possibly do for Allelujah? Moral support (it's such a trite term that you nearly laugh at the thought) will do very little in this situation, and without command of a physical body, without knowledge of where he is actually being held, you can do nothing to help rescue him.

If only you could hold and fire a gun—if only you could whisk Allelujah away to space, dial a phone and call Miss Sumeragi to come retrieve you. If only…

You can do none of these things but still you are here, and your friend is staring at you like you've created the sun, and so you can only swallow and try to reassure him (as best you can, because you're not sure you believe it yourself) that you are more than a hallucination.

 _Can you stay?_ Allelujah's voice in your head asks. _Until the guards come again._

"They won't be able to see me, anyway," you say. "I'll stay for as long as I can."

There's a question in Allelujah's exhausted mind that doesn't quite form, and you decide not to press; after a moment's hesitation you fold yourself down, sitting on the filthy floor of this cell so Allelujah does not have to strain to look at you. "I've seen the others," you say after a moment, because this is important for him to know. "They're alive—they'll come to rescue you, I'm sure of it."

Allelujah stares at you, his eyes still wide, disbelief and hope still obvious in his thoughts and his body language. Of course, you cannot promise such things when Tieria and Setsuna both seem to think him beyond their reach, but if you can convince them of the truth—

But you force yourself to plan later; for right now, you are the first friendly face Allelujah has seen in a long time. For however long you are able to stay, you will sit here, sharing air and space and thoughts, and offer what comfort you can.

* * *

7—

This time, Tieria does not threaten to shoot you or even ignore your existence, and his wounds seem to have healed, and you will count these as blessings for the time being as you find yourself, again, in his private quarters on Krung Thep.

You have found yourself on the colony several times, since that moment in the hangar with the remnants of Tieria's proud Gundam. You never let Tieria see you, though, because you're sure he doesn't want anything to do with you (you're just the ghost of a dear friend, after all); you spent whatever allotted time you had here wandering the halls, trying to seek out friends and familiar faces to ensure that everyone is well.

Miss Sumeragi's words seem to have not been far from their mark, though; with Allelujah and Setsuna missing, and you dead, they've only got one Meister remaining to run new OS simulations—one Meister left to advise on the design of Gundam cockpits. And since that second time you've found Lasse, too—though his face is newly scarred, and he spends a lot more time in Med Bay than you'd like. (They're always discussing some sort of particle poisoning that you haven't caught enough about to truly understand, but if the standard treatments aren't working, then—)

But no matter how you search, you have not found Christina or Lichty or Doctor Moreno, and you see Feldt crying often—have seen Ian break down in the privacy of an empty hangar—have even seen Lasse wipe angrily at tears forming in his eyes every time someone refers to him as their helmsman, and—

And you do not know how that final battle went but you know it must have been terrible, because the Ptolemy is nowhere in sight, and Kyrios and Exia are gone. Though they yet have four GN drives, the gaps in your crew seem to be felt even by the workers native to Krung Thep, who in equal parts try to give them space and offer help where it might be wanted.

Every time you have seen Sumeragi she has been drunk, locked in her cabin, and every time you have seen Feldt she has been working herself into the ground, and you know that despite trying desperately to cover every crack that's appeared in his persona over the past year, Tieria is long past his own breaking point.

You find yourself in his cabin and see him lying on his back on the cot, mobile suit schematics projected to the ceiling above him though it's obvious his mind has started to wander. He looks over sharply as you shift, and his face contorts as he turns away.

"I thought I made it clear that you should leave."

"I'm not sure I have control over that," you say, because truly, you do not know how long has passed since your death, or even since the last time you found yourself on Krung Thep. You seem to split time equally between your three friends, spend several hours to a day with them, and then find your consciousness fading with nothing you can do to stop it. If you could spend more time with Allelujah, you certainly would (because the few times you have appeared in his empty cell, his face has lit up in a way it has no right to, given his situation), but you have found no way to control any of this. It's just about as frustrating as the fact that you have no idea why you haven't properly died yet.

"What are you doing here?" Tieria snaps, finally, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up to glare at you. His wounds from the battle seem to have healed, which you are relieved for, though the dark bags beneath his eyes that indicate sleepless nights have only gotten heavier.

"I'm worried about you," you say sharply, and don't bother to answer the question because you both know there isn't an answer. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I don't need to sleep," he snaps, and you see his hands shaking as they clench into fists. "I need to keep working. We're already missing—"

He chokes off, looking away sharply, blinking quickly. You give him a moment to compose himself before you say, "You're plenty human—and humans need to rest. You're going to kill yourself at this rate."

Tieria grimaces, doesn't respond. "You're dead," he says, harsh, so similar to the way he used to talk, years ago. "I don't understand why you're here."

"I don't either," you say, "but you and Setsuna and Allelujah are—"

"What?" Tieria asks sharply, turning back to you, his eyes widening.

"I've seen them," you say, and his eyes grow even wider. "Setsuna retreated to Japan, but Allelujah…"

Tieria frowns at you, obviously weighing his options. Information from a dead comrade who may or may not truly be here, after all, is not information anyone would consider reputable—but at the same time, the others' absence is obviously weighing heavily on him. Once, Tieria never would have trusted your information, but that Tieria never would have mourned for any member of the crew, either. If the knowledge of their continued survival can help him move forward...

"We know the government has him," Tieria says after a moment. "But we don't know where he's being held."

He stares at the floor for a moment, and then his hands, before looking up to you. "They're still alive?"

"Yeah, but I don't know where Allelujah's being held," you say, and Tieria's face falls, "And every time I see Setsuna, he's somewhere new."

"But if they're still alive…" Tieria says quietly, more to himself—but you nod anyway. "The first thing we need to do is find Setsuna."

He nods sharply to you, standing up and wobbling a bit before heading toward the door. "You need to _sleep_ ," you say, standing up as well though both of you know you won't be able to stop him. "Setsuna can wait twelve hours so you don't lose another Meister."

Tieria frowns and does not bother to reply, only opening the door and coasting down the hallway, out of sight.

* * *

8—

Setsuna's in a dim, enclosed area, focused entirely on his task—and as your eyes adjust, you realize the mess of metal and electronics before you is Exia.

This is a relief, at least, that the last GN drive did not fall into enemy hands. But the damage to his Gundam seems extensive, and while Setsuna all but adores it and certainly knows his way around standard maintenance, you doubt that even Ian would have an easy time of this. "Quite a project you've got, there," you say, when Setsuna takes a moment to breathe, and he freezes before sighing heavily, turning to face you. "Where'd you find the parts?"

"Junkyards," he says after a moment, a frown on his face. "There's no way to replace the arm, though."

You hum, taking a closer look; sure enough, Exia's left arm is absent entirely; the physical sword on the right is badly damaged; and the suit as a whole is in awful repair—Setsuna's lucky to be alive at all, let alone well enough to be rebuilding a Gundam on his own. You can see the damage to the cockpit, high above you, and for Setsuna to have sustained that damage in the middle of battle and come out alive—

"Once you're able to take it to space, you need to get to Krung Thep," you say, and Setsuna's frown deepens. "They don't know you're still alive, or that you've got your GN drive."

"For a hallucination, you're very persistent," Setsuna mutters, turning back to Exia, and your frustration spikes.

"Even if that's all I am, what's the harm in checking?" you demand. "Why would Krung Thep be gone too, after Fallen Angels?"

"Even if I _could_ get Exia working," he bites out, "it will be difficult to bring it up the elevator without alerting the military—and making the cockpit airtight is its own problem."

You glance up to the suit again, taking in exactly how bad of a shape it's in, and your face twists. "You think I haven't tried to contact Krung Thep?" he continues, his voice low. "They're not responding. If they're not dead, they've relocated."

"They haven't," you challenge, shifting to try and look Setsuna in the face though he is determinedly half-buried in wires and metal. "They're still there—they've probably just re-encrypted all the communication lines, after the battle—"

"Flying Exia through Federation-controlled space would be suicide," he snaps. "I need to continue our mission—and getting killed alongside everyone else isn't going to help anyone."

Your face crumples, and you cross your arms over your chest as you consider him. "They're alive," you say after several moments, all but begging him to believe you. "And Tieria—he's not doing well, with the rest of us gone. It would be good for both of you if you found your way back."

"I'm sure," Setsuna mutters, though when he turns, there is pain on his face. "This will take years to fix by myself," he says, gesturing to Exia, and you think he's probably right. "Going to space isn't an option right now."

The going isn't the hard part—but getting anywhere from the elevator without hijacking a shuttle would be next to impossible. "Eventually," you concede, and Setsuna stares at you. "They're alive, Setsuna—you need to get back."

He's silent for several seconds longer (and you're sure he's just thinking of a new way to refuse you) before his jaw clenches. "Maybe," he says quietly, and you figure that's as good as you're going to get.

* * *

9—

You're so used to appearing in a corner of Allelujah's darkened cell that the brightness of the operating theater blinds you. You blink it away, rubbing at your eye furiously as you try to figure out where you are—the gravity doesn't match Krung Thep, and it's not anywhere that Setsuna would be, so you must have joined Allelujah. But—this is sterile and white, so opposite his grimy cell, that you're confused for several seconds before your mind catches up.

Allelujah seems to have an uncanny ability of sensing your presence, even when he can't immediately see you—but your mind is disturbingly empty, and your friend's voice does not echo through your head, and you look around with a burning eye as you try to figure out where your friend has gone.

There's half a dozen people in scrubs behind you, muttering to each other, and a large mirror on the opposite wall that you're sure is a two-way. You walk forward quickly, your hands shaking at your sides, but when you're finally able to see over a shorter man's shoulder, your gait falters, and your mind freezes up as you realize what you're looking at.

There's someone on the operating table—it must be Allelujah, because another quick glance around the room tells you he's nowhere in sight. His head is covered with a cloth but for a small opening, where you can see—

You take several steps back, trying desperately not to vomit (an experience, in this situation, that would be awful under normal circumstances, but now is the least of your worries—) as your mind refuses to believe what has been presented before you. Allelujah is undergoing _brain surgery,_ and your first thought is that there might be complications from the battle, but then—hasn't he mentioned quantum brainwaves, every so often? Didn't he say the Super Human Institute experimented on children's brains, when he was convincing the rest of you he needed to destroy it?

You cannot hear the doctors' muted conversations, or whatever might be fed to them through the earpieces they're wearing—and you cannot bring yourself to step closer, because—his _brain_ had been exposed, and a piece of his skull had been on a table nearby, and you cannot even fathom this because—

The doctors seem frustrated, and the words you can make out sound like _concussion_ and _potentially irreversible damage_. This terrifies you more than anything, because—beyond the implied damage to your friend that even a regeneration pod could not fix—will this infuriate the military enough to decide he is not worth keeping around?

But is that any worse than keeping him on as a lab rat, in exactly the situation he escaped as a child—surviving surgery after surgery with no foreseeable end?

You want to punch something, but nothing will crumple beneath your fist; you want to scream, but the only person who could possibly hear you is currently helpless, his brain being picked apart by doctors who have abandoned any sense of morality.

You pace, but that feels more useless than simply standing; you end up screaming at the doctors just for something to do, standing at the mirror and cupping your face to try and see beyond. Sure enough, several important-looking military men are sitting there, looking straight through you, clearly waiting for the final verdict on whether your dear friend will be _useful_ to them.

You scream at them, too (though it doesn't make you feel any better), and end up curling up in a corner of the room, trying to ignore what's happening feet from you, and close your eyes—asking a God you haven't believed in for years to keep Allelujah alive.

.

Next you know, you're in Allelujah's cell again—and you scramble to your feet, looking around for your friend. There's only one place he could be, of course—and your eyes alight on his still form, his head pitched forward. He does not answer when you call his name.

You call for him again, a little louder, a little more desperate—and step forward quickly, trying to ascertain his health. There are bandages wrapped around his head that look relatively fresh, and you can see him shifting with every breath, which—which means he's still alive. That's good, you try to reassure yourself, and as you step closer you see that the gag has also been removed.

The reason for that is clear, though, as you see the pool of vomit in his lap. You can't smell it, and reaching to wipe it away (which you would do in a heartbeat, if you could) will do nothing, but at the very least it must be uncomfortable—and—

And Allelujah is not just a prisoner of war but a _guinea pig_ for the government's experiments, and you think something slips in your mind, because—Allelujah is strong (one of the strongest people you know), but he can't— _nobody_ could—

You hover over him for several seconds longer, hands outstretched uselessly as you try and figure out what to do. Tieria—he's better equipped to help Allelujah than Setsuna is, but without knowledge of where he's being held, he cannot do anything…even if they had operational Gundams and people to pilot them.

It's an impossible situation, but you know you need to do _something_. You're here, after all—still looking after your friends months after you should have died, and you figure that if it's happened then it must be for a reason. But until the next time you see Tieria, you can do nothing except keep Allelujah company; you sit on the ground near his chair, watching his breathing for several moments before pulling your knees up, resting your forehead on them, and closing your eye.

* * *

10—

You're gone before you see him wake up.

You're in the hangar, where Tieria seems to spend most of his time, and when he catches sight of you, he stares for several moments before gesturing to the door. Ian and Feldt, after all, are working nearby on what might be a new Gundam's frame, and though you wish you could speak with them, you've followed both around Krung Thep often enough to realize they cannot see you. You allow your eyes to linger on your friends but follow Tieria out to the hallway, floating silently behind him.

"You look different," Tieria says as he turns to face you, in a deserted conference room. "Less solid."

"Do I?" you ask, glancing down to your body. It looks the same as always, to you: the green flight suit you died in, in a pristine condition it hasn't obtained since you first donned it. You look solid as ever to your own eye, but something pained on Tieria's face suggests that that's not the case for him.

"Are you leaving?" he asks after several moments, quietly, and you're not sure how to answer this—just like most of his other questions.

"I don't know," you say, and Tieria's face twists further. "But listen—you need to get Allelujah out. I just saw him, and they're—they're running experiments on him, cutting open his brain—"

"Experiments?" Tieria asks sharply, though his face has grown a little paler.

"Like from the Institute," you say, your stomach twisting at the memory of that operating room. Tieria swears viciously under his breath, reaching up to rub at his eyes momentarily. "He—I think he hit his head in the battle, and the doctors, they were talking about things going wrong, but I don't know—"

"You know there's nothing we can do," Tieria cuts you off, not quite looking you in the eye. "Sumeragi left. Nadleeh and Dynames are beyond help—it would be just as much effort to build brand new Gundams. And with Exia's drive gone…"

"Setsuna has it," you say, and though you knew Miss Sumeragi's departure has been a long time in coming, the fact that it's actually happened stings more than you thought. But Tieria relaxes at your words. "Exia's in bad shape, but he was trying to do repairs—and he has the drive."

"The fact remains that we don't have it to run tests," Tieria says, and then looks more closely at you, his face falling further. "You're disappearing."

You're not sure what this means for you, or for Setsuna and Allelujah (who would be very distressed if you suddenly stopped appearing with no warning), but you force yourself to focus on Tieria. "You'll be all right," you say, because you're pretty sure it's true. Tieria still looks exhausted and overworked, but the unhealthy glow to his skin and the huge bags beneath his eyes have disappeared. You see, more than anything, the best part of the old Tieria: determination to carry on their mission, no matter what obstacles stand in his way.

He stares at you a little longer, starting to squint, and you wonder how visible you are to him, anymore. "Yes," he agrees, "but I'm worried for Setsuna and Allelujah."

"You'll get them back," you say confidently, "and I'll do my best to watch out for them until then."

Tieria nods vaguely, still squinting as if straining to see you. "Lockon," he says suddenly, urgently, and you cock your head—but after a moment his face twists in something like grief, and his eyes lose their focus on you.

"I'll see you later," you say, and find that there's something thick in your throat that you can't swallow away. He doesn't react to your words, but his sharp eyes glance around the room for several moments before he nods sharply, rubbing at his face again before leaving you behind.

* * *

11—

You're a little surprised when you materialize in a desert, standing a little behind Setsuna as he stares at the sand.

You nearly didn't recognize Setsuna for the loose cloak and large hood, but after all, who else could it be? He's grown, over the time you've spent with him; though he's still shorter than you by several inches, you think he might rival Tieria, now. He doesn't turn when you appear, though he shifts in a way you know means he recognizes your presence.

"What are you doing out here?" you ask, for something to say, because while you have found Setsuna all over the world, you don't think you've ever been here.

"Thinking," he says, still not turning to look at you, and does not elaborate.

"About what?" you wonder, taking a couple of steps forward to stand beside him and looking out upon the landscape. There's not much there—just miles upon miles of sand, marred by the occasional village. The nearest is clearly in ruins, buildings half-standing and deserted, with what you think might be the remains of outdated mechs scattered about. "Not the most pleasant place to hang out, yeah?"

He turns to you, then, and the pain on his face—open, more open than you have ever known it to be—gives you pause. And he hesitates to answer, too; Setsuna, who ever speaks his mind, no matter how unpleasant or rude it might be, does not tell you what this is about. After a moment you prod him again, a little gentler, asking what's the matter.

"This village," he says, gesturing to the nearest town, and you glance to it before returning your attention to Setsuna. "It's where I grew up. Where Ali al-Saachez found us. Where…I was saved by Gundam."

You blink, processing this, and look again to the small, burnt-out buildings, the destroyed mobile suits. You try to imagine anyone living here, and fail. "I don't know what to do," Setsuna continues, his voice quiet and nearly drowned out by the wind. "Exia…is as functional as it will ever be, but taking it to space is a risk. Gundam has done everything for me, but I can't…"

He trails off, and you hesitate to speak, wondering if he's trying to collect his thoughts or whether he'd like advice. "It's been over three years," he says suddenly, a little sharper, "and there's been no sign of the others. You say they're alive, and I want to believe you, but…"

He does not pick up the sentence again, and you hesitate before deciding to speak. "The others," you say carefully, "they've nearly finished building a new generation of Gundams. Yours—it's supposed to have a twin drive. But for that to happen, they need the last solar reactor."

Setsuna frowns, just as he always does when you mention your friends, but he does not dispute you. "I've been watching the Federation," he says, and you frown—because from what you've seen of them (both in Allelujah's prison and on Celestial Being's briefing screens), this new government is no better than the last. "This new peace-keeping force—the A-Laws—is imprisoning and killing people for dissention. And the government isn't doing anything to stop them."

His face twists further, and though you're disgusted, you're not surprised. "I've been in contact with Katharon," he says, his voice low, and your brows shoot up. You've heard both him and Tieria mention that resistance group, but generally only to discuss how understaffed and outgunned they are. "They don't know who I am, but they've been a good source of information. And they say that hundreds of their operatives are being held at Proud. They don't have a plan yet, and it won't be for several months, but..."

You hesitate, trying to follow his train of thought, before you suck in a sharp breath. "You want to help break them out?" you ask, and Setsuna looks away.

"It will be a source of information on the A-Laws," he says quietly, "and if Gundam and I can help save all those people…"

You think you understand, now, where he's coming from—as his gaze turns away, lingering on the ruined village below. "You should," you say, and Setsuna turns again to you, his eyes a little wider. "The A-Laws are inciting conflict all over the world—if nothing else, that's certainly grounds for an armed intervention."

Setsuna snorts, though he does not smile. "Exposing myself wouldn't be ideal," he says, though he doesn't sound like he's trying to argue.

You laugh, then, and wish you could throw an arm around his shoulders—no matter how much he would hate it. After all, Setsuna was never one to think about consequences, before. "I think you'll be fine," you say, thinking of Tieria's new Gundam, nearly finished—Allelujah's and yours in standby, waiting for their pilots (though you know you will never be able to touch it yourself)…the 00, nearly complete but for the stabilization of the Twin Drive.

Setsuna does not answer; he only stares down at the ruins of his childhood home for several seconds longer before standing a bit straighter, nodding to you, and turning away.

* * *

12—

You have never been so worried about someone as you are Allelujah.

He has stayed strong against interrogations, surgeries, and cruelty for months and years, for longer than could have ever been expected of him. Though you know he will never give up Celestial Being's secrets (though you often wish he would, if only it would spare him), you also know there is only so much a human—super soldier or no—can take.

He looks relieved as ever to see you, when you appear in his cell, though his face is mottled and bruised from the latest interrogation. You're glad you missed it—the few times you have appeared in the middle of one, you could do less than nothing—scream obscenities and throw punches at guards and officers as they roughed up your friend for laughs, treated him as less than human and made you wish to shoot them more than you have anyone (except, perhaps, al-Saachez) in your life.

He's clearly pleased to see you, but there is something behind his face that suggests an overwhelming exhaustion, a body and mind losing hope of rescue. It has been so long, and despite all your reassurances that the others are alive, such promises only stand for so much in the face of invasive brain surgery and brutal interrogations.

He looks happy but he looks _tired,_ and both of these show in his body language and in your mind. You have long given up on questioning this, and Allelujah seems unworried. _Quantum brainwaves,_ he offered as a theory when you asked, and you're not sure that's the case because the doctors have said his are damaged beyond use, and you've never so much as heard of them before this strange afterlife.

But, after all, the important thing is that you can communicate with the friend who has not seen a kind face in over three years—and you do not question it any longer.

 _Can we talk?_ Allelujah asks; the answer has always been yes, but that has never stopped him from asking.

"Of course," you say, settling down on the floor to spare your friend's neck, and ask what he'd like to pass the time with—hoping he will be able to forget his current situation and gain hope for the future, if only for a little while.

 _You've said you had a family,_ Allelujah says, and you can sense hesitance in his words as he stares at you. _What were they like?_

It's unexpected and painful, to be asked to speak of your family. By all rights, after all, you should be spending time with them right now, in whatever afterlife you may be deemed worthy of entering. But Allelujah looks earnest (just as he always does), and you hesitate, wondering how best to answer.

"My brother's kind of an ass," you decide to start with, hoping for humor, but Allelujah's brows crease a little. "We're twins, you know, and he always thought everyone liked me better. So he, ah, didn't like me as a result." Your smile comes off a little melancholy, you think, and Allelujah prods at you gently, asking almost hesitantly if he is still alive.

"As far as I know," you shrug, though honestly, you haven't the slightest idea. You tried to keep tabs on him, while you were alive, but…well, looking people up on the internet becomes a little harder when you have no access to a computer. "Was going to college to study tactical forecasting, a few years ago."

 _He must be smart,_ Allelujah says, obviously thinking of Miss Sumeragi, and you laugh.

"Smarter than me, for sure."

 _Did you have parents?_ Allelujah asks, and you can sense a little hesitancy in his questioning, now. And talking about them is painful, even so many years later, even after your own death—but you think Allelujah deserves to hear stories of a happy family he never got to have, if he wants to.

"Yeah," you say, a little quieter, and Allelujah is immediately apologetic, retracting his question and saying you don't need to—"It's all right," you continue quickly, even though you're not really sure it is. "It's just…they, and my little sister, they died. When I was fourteen."

You end up telling Allelujah everything you can remember about your family; the stories come haltingly, at first, and dredging up the memories is often more painful than you're expecting. But Allelujah hangs on your every word; he asks often what a mother or a father does, what the duties of an older brother are, and you end up speaking more of your family as a dead man than you ever did alive.

 _You miss them,_ Allelujah says, during a lull, and though your throat does not get dry, you seem to have run out of words.

"Of course I do," you say. "I—all I want is to see them again."

Allelujah hesitates, blinking down at you, a little frown and a little sympathy on his face. _Would you rather be with them than with me?_ he asks hesitantly, after several moments longer, and you blink rapidly and look away—because despite every good you hope you're doing for your friend, despite the clear need he and the others have of your company—you find that you don't know the answer.

* * *

13—

Tieria and Feldt are in serious discussion, and though it has been a long time since Tieria has been able to see you, you find yourself leaning forward as if part of the conversation, hoping to hear what they're talking about.

Your heart leaps as you see PROUD displayed on Feldt's terminal, and you hope that they are planning to join the assault, rather than discussing the aftermath. Exia, after all, is functional in space but will be hopeless in a battle against the A-Laws' suits—and if it comes down to it, you know that Setsuna will probably die without backup in such a fight.

After almost four years of keeping watch over him, you refuse to let him die while so close to reuniting with the others—and as Tieria starts discussing tactical plans and Seravee's capabilities with Ian over a comm link, you could _kiss_ him. You rub shaking hands down your face before turning to Feldt, who is still busy typing on the terminal, wholly concentrated on the task before her. Of everyone still left on Krung Thep, you think she might have changed the most of all; her hair—styled, now, after Chris'—makes her look older, and she's lost much of the baby fat that used to fill out her cheeks. She's no longer the scrawny teenager who looked to you for guidance; she's fully capable, it seems, of doing whatever's required of her on Krung Thep.

You've been proud of your fellow Meisters for all they have survived and achieved, but you find yourself beaming at her and Ian and Lasse, too, as he joins the rest on the bridge of what you're sure is the new Ptolemy.

"Are you going out to Proud, then?" he asks Tieria, a little grin on his face—and Tieria nods sharply, hanging up with Ian and straightening his spine.

"It contains an A-Laws labor camp full of undocumented prisoners held in extreme conditions," he says. "If Setsuna is still alive, I believe he will be there."

"That's quite the leap of faith," Lasse points out, though he still seems more amused than anything—and Tieria glances to him, as if knowing exactly what he's playing at.

"Setsuna wouldn't allow that to continue any more than we would," he says. "I believe that he's still alive, and I believe that if he can, he will be at Proud at the same time as Katharon's planned rebellion."

Lasse's grin grows wider, at that. "Just tell me where to fly," he says, and you find yourself smiling in response.

* * *

14—

Exia is hidden in position; Setsuna has found himself a new flight suit, black to better blend into the vacuum; and he has it on good information that the Katharon rebellion is due to start any minute.

You follow behind him silently in the bowels of the station, both to ensure he keeps himself safe and for lack of anything else you can do. The maintenance shafts you crawl through are narrow and dim, and gunfire surround you on all sides—and though this is a familiar noise—even a common one, when you were alive—you find yourself on edge.

Bullets will go through you like air, but Setsuna does not have that kind of luxury—and as you see A-Laws personnel evacuating and Setsuna's frown growing deeper, the dread fills your own gut steadily as you descend deeper into the facility.

And then there are automatons, made for killing people without even the decency of a human being behind the trigger, and your stomach turns further as you watch workers— _prisoners_ —shot down like animals. Setsuna is shaken as well, as he hesitates in the doorway, looking for survivors or cover or a way to help. You know stepping into this room would be suicide, but he does it anyway, throwing a mine at the nearest machine and saving a man cowering behind a shipping container.

Setsuna pulls him up by the hand and names him Saji Crossroad in something like wonder. He's tall and scrawny—about your friend's age, you would guess, when you step forward—and you wonder if this is the same person who took Setsuna to the hospital, after Fallen Angels. Setsuna's gaze flickers around as he pulls Saji down the hall by the wrist, as you follow silently.

"This isn't what we wanted," Setsuna snarls as he narrowly avoids an automaton, and you find that you have never agreed more.

The three of you descend upon the hangar, and you reflexively reach for a helmet that you do not have or need as Setsuna activates the doors. You do not follow him into Exia—an extra body in the cockpit, corporeal or not, will only be a distraction when you knows your friend is doomed already. Setsuna climbs deftly into the cockpit, looking back briefly at you and Saji before dropping out of sight. The other boy is on his knees beside you, his trembling obvious even though his flight suit, and though his lips are moving, without a helmet and a comm link of your own, you will never hear what he is saying. You feel some sympathy for him, you think—he's obviously shocked by Exia's appearance, by Setsuna's status as a Meister, and after what he went through not half an hour ago, you can understand his breakdown.

He obviously thinks himself alone (and by all measures, he is), and so you give him space, walk several feet away to lean against the wall, and watch with trepidation and growing fear as Setsuna fights the A-Laws soldiers, out in the vacuum of space.

He's outmatched; Exia is more than five years old, and these new suits with the stolen GN drives are far newer and far superior. You keep glancing deeper into space, looking for Seravee, but Tieria has not arrived yet—and your stomach dips deeper as you wonder if Tieria changed his mind, if there was a delay, because—

But then Tieria is there, and you sag against the wall as he makes quick work of even the best pilots on the battlefield. Exia is floating, motionless, but you have to hope that Setsuna is still alive—and when Seravee stops shooting, it hangs motionless in space for several moments before reaching toward Exia, grabbing it by the shoulder and dragging it back to the hangar.

Saji looks up at the movement and jerks back, falling back onto his hands and pulling himself desperately away from the hangar doors. Tieria surely sees him, though, and deposits a destroyed Exia dozens of feet away. Setsuna emerges from the cockpit a little unsteady but unharmed, and his gaze finds you and then Saji before jerking up to Seravee as the cockpit opens, and Tieria descends to the ground.

Saji lunges to his feet, stomping unsteadily toward the two of them as they talk, and you only realize you should be concerned about this when he wrestles Setsuna's gun from his loose grip. Setsuna, relaxed in the presence of any other person—this is something you never would have thought of him, years ago, but now he is distracted enough to be disarmed by a clear civilian. You take several steps forward, knowing you can do nothing to help but needing to do _something_ all the same.

Tieria steps toward Saji as well but is ignored, as he demands Setsuna explain himself, give him back his family and his girlfriend—and you watch Setsuna's face, trying to figure out if he considers this a serious threat (though you certainly do)—if he is going to do anything. Setsuna stares at Saji for several seconds before shifting his gaze to you, a little behind and to the left—and Saji screams at him as Tieria frowns, looking in your direction as well though his gaze does not focus on anything.

You do not know what Setsuna wants from you, though, and so you are silent, still on edge as Saji's demands become louder and more unreasonable. Setsuna's face twists before he looks back to Saji, saying only that they need to get out of here and that if he does not want to die, he'll need to come with them. Saji puts up such a fight at the idea that you wince at the sheer volume of his voice, but eventually he is convinced to climb into Tieria's cockpit; as you follow behind Setsuna, you see why. Exia's cockpit is damaged (not critically, and not even particularly dangerously—but putting a hysterical civilian in here would cause more problems than it would solve), and Setsuna picks his way to the seat, sealing his helmet before he re-opens the hangar doors.

He keeps an open comm link to Tieria as Seravee grabs Exia again, but neither of them say anything across it as they move toward the Ptolemy.

.

When Setsuna turns to you, after Tieria has landed in the Ptolemy's hangar and you've both clambered out of the ruined cockpit, his face takes on something akin to grief. You realize what is happening even before Setsuna opens his mouth.

"You're leaving," he says quietly, and you hesitate, wondering how best to reply.

"I'd love to!" Saji's outraged voice comes from behind you, and you turn slightly to see him stepping toward Setsuna—his hands shaking and his eyes wide in fury. "You're the one that dragged me here—"

You turn back to Setsuna, stepping a bit to the side so Saji does not step _through_ you (that would be a strange thing to see, you think), and he follows you with his gaze; Saji stomps up as best he is able in the low gravity, and you can see him nearly vibrating with rage as he is very deliberately ignored. "Poor kid," you say with a little grin, jerking your head toward him, though you absolutely sympathize with his situation. "Don't be too awful to him, yeah?"

Setsuna grunts noncommittally, and your grin grows a bit wider, at that. "You'll be fine," you say, a little softer, and glance over your shoulder as Tieria moves toward you as well with a frown. "You're safe, now. But you've gotta get Allelujah out."

Setsuna's frown deepens; you've told him often enough of the atrocities your friend is surviving at this very moment, and he has ever been outraged, distressed and hopeless as he could do nothing about it. But now he can; Celestial Being has their fifth GN drive at last, and with the 00 complete but for the calibrations, Allelujah can finally be rescued.

"Lockon," he starts, squinting a little, and Saji all but snarls as his anger is ignored, and Tieria's footfalls, behind you, stop abruptly.

"I'll be with him," you say. "Until he's safe again. That's why I've been following you around, yeah? Making sure you didn't get yourself killed before you got back."

Setsuna's face grows pained, and he works his jaw before a strangled "thank you" leaves his throat. Your smile grows a bit warmer.

"I'll see you around, kid."

* * *

15—

You think it can't be that long after that you see Allelujah again, but the change in his body language and vague thoughts is so marked that you step toward him quickly, without thinking, only wishing to help. And Allelujah surely knows you're here, but he does not lift his head, does not so much as twitch even when you step within his line of sight. You see the bandages on his head, blood seeping through them slowly and into his hair.

They weren't there the last time—and you swear loudly at the unfairness of it all. Setsuna has returned to Celestial Being, and they are closer than ever to breaking Allelujah free, but in the meantime he is surviving horrors Lockon can only imagine, and has been for _four years._

Allelujah does not greet you as he usually does, and you find that this has been a long time in coming—that, had he been anyone else, this probably would have happened years ago.

"Allelujah," you start, and his head twitches, as if he's trying to flick off a fly. "I...I know it's hard to believe, but the others, they're coming, I swear—Setsuna just got back to the Ptolemy, and now that they've got his GN drive—"

A vague _go away_ is in his mind, a vague dismissal, a vague wish that you weren't here. And hurt pulls at your heart, that Allelujah is not glad to see you, but—after all, are you anything more than a hallucination? Something, perhaps, brought on first by the drugs—and later, whatever they're implanting into his head?

"I'm not going anywhere," you say stubbornly, and Allelujah sighs, almost imperceptibly. "You're—you just need to hang on a little longer—"

 _They're dead,_ he tells you, his tone more defeated than you think you have ever heard, and you stop short at that—because though Setsuna maintained this for years despite your arguments, Allelujah has never argued when you promised that the others would rescue him.

"No they're not," you say, and you know it's a ridiculous argument but your mind can come up with nothing else for the sheer surprise. "They're—I _just_ saw them, I swear—"

 _They're dead,_ he says again, turning his face further away from you, and this time it is accompanied by imagery. It's vague, but you recognize the wreckage of Exia and Nadleeh, crashed in an unfamiliar hangar, and their pilots being shot to ribbons by soldiers as they emerge from the cockpits. You blink, staring down at the top of Allelujah's bandaged head—wondering why he has—

 _The military showed me,_ he tells you, and your mind freezes. _They have video. They're dead, just like you._

Your first thought is _doctored video_ and the second is utter rage, that the government would go to such lengths to break down their prisoner. Especially after—after Proud, when Celestial Being finally showed their face again, and you wonder suddenly whether this was not _because_ of that assault.

Allelujah has gone silent, his face turned away and his breathing stiff and even. You want so desperately to be able to prove him wrong, but you have never mastered sharing your own thoughts; you're not sure you're able to do it at all, and anyway, it's never been necessary before now. But you have fresh memories of Setsuna and Tieria on the new Ptolemy—surrounded, even, by the rest of their crew (and Mileina, a new member that Allelujah could not dream up for a hallucination on his own). You have years' worth of memories proving the government wrong but you cannot share them, and you find yourself at a loss, staring down at your friend as he obviously tries to hold himself together.

"They're alive," you say eventually, your voice cracking, and Allelujah does not respond. "They're—your new Gundam, Arios, it's beautiful—Ian built it himself—and you're gonna pilot it as soon as they get you out of here. I _swear,_ Allelujah, they're not gonna let you rot in here forever."

His eyes squint in something like a grimace, though you cannot be sure with that damned gag over half his face, and you know your words haven't done any good. _Leave, please,_ he says after several seconds, and your face twists. Even should you be able to leave on your own, there's no way in hell you'd do it now, when Allelujah is so upset.

But it's clear that your presence is only exacerbating his distress, and so you take a step back. "I can't decide when I leave," you say eventually, "but I'll—go sit over here, if you want."

He nods, almost imperceptibly, and you swallow down the hurt and rage in your throat as you curl up against the far wall, out of your friend's line of sight. You do not know how much time you have left here and decide not to waste it—you summon images of your friends, images that are clearly of the years since the battle, and imprint them strongly at the front of your mind. You're not sure how to send them to Allelujah but you try—to no success, if your friend's determined silence is anything to go by.

He doesn't say anything more to you for the hours you stay, and you don't think you've been so scared for anyone else in all your life.

* * *

16—

The place you find yourself next is surprisingly familiar, and you see the memorial before you see anything else on the street—even Setsuna, even your brother.

It's held up well against the elements, you think with some relief. The area has long been built up again, the grounds that killed hundreds in a shopping mall now turned into office buildings and parking lots. But the memorial still stands—the city has made sure of it, even fifteen years later—and you find yourself staring at it, your eyes wandering to the point you know holds the names of your family though you are too far away to read them properly.

Your eyes snap away from it only when you hear your brother's voice, and you blink, looking around to see him speaking with Setsuna. He's standing defensively, a deep frown on his face as Setsuna talks to him. You wonder for only a moment what they're doing together; it's a relief to see that Lyle's alive at all, no matter what you quipped at Allelujah months ago, but the fact that _Setsuna_ is here—

You realize why after only another moment, and you freeze, because Lyle would never—

He's hated shooting since you outperformed him at three tournaments in a row, sold his airsoft guns back to the shop in a rage and never looked back, but there is no other reason Setsuna would approach your brother now. And you suppose it's not an unreasonable thing to do, especially with both Veda and Miss Sumeragi lost and unable to help investigate potential pilots, but (as far as you know), Lyle has never stepped foot in a mobile suit, and would never agree to pilot a sniping mech.

Tactical forecasting, he had said so many years ago before you dropped off the grid entirely—and if you hadn't been so sure they would also get Miss Sumeragi back, you'd wonder if Setsuna was recruiting him to replace your commander, instead.

Lyle looks skeptical at best but Setsuna offers him a data stick anyway, leaving him with ominous words about Katharon's security that give you pause, wondering whether Lyle is a part of that resistance group. It'd bolster his resume as a potential Gundam Meister, certainly, but if he's already affiliated with them—

Setsuna walks away from Lyle, then, his hands in his pockets and his back to your brother, and you watch Lyle stare after him, a strange look on his face before he gets into your old car. You hesitate, looking between your dear friend and the twin brother you haven't seen in years, and eventually decide to follow Setsuna.

He's taking a familiar path, one you walked all too often as a teenager—and you blink in surprise as he lets himself into the local cemetery. He walks directly to your family's grave, and you hang back several feet, wondering what Setsuna could possibly want here. Though you've visited him often, you've never seen him in Ireland, let alone your hometown—and _certainly_ not here.

Your name isn't on the headstone, you can see easily; there are still only three lines of text, your parents and sister engraved in stone. You wonder vaguely if Lyle will ask that yours be added, now that he knows the truth.

"Lockon," Setsuna says, breaking the silence, and your head snaps up, blinking at him—but he's not looking at you. He's talking to the headstone, standing a respectful distance from it and clenching his fists, and you hesitate, wondering what he's doing.

He doesn't say anything else, though—and his fists start trembling with his shoulders as he reaches up furiously to wipe at his face. "Hey," you say in alarm, taking a step forward, and Setsuna ignores you. But seeing your friend _cry_ —this is something you have never considered, not once, and the tears on his face as you step around him are terrifying as you hover, trying to figure out whether you can do anything. Your hand goes through his shoulder like smoke when you try and touch him, and he ignores you calling his name.

But only a few seconds later, he is regulating his breathing, clenching his jaw, and wiping furiously at his face. You hesitate, staring at him—but though his breaths are deep and unsteady, tears do not fall down his face again, and his hands find their way back to his pockets.

He looks a little lost, a little unsure, and you're desperate to reassure him though you know you can do nothing. "You guys'll be fine, with Lyle," you say eventually, and Setsuna does not turn. "He's an ass, see, but he's a good person and a decent shot. He'll be a good pilot for Cherudim."

It's the truth, and you only wish Setsuna could hear you as his eyes trace lines over your family's names, on the empty space where your name might someday be written.

You wait with him for several minutes longer, but he doesn't say anything more; and when he leaves, his shoulders are rigid and straight, and his eyes are clear.

* * *

17—

Lyle seems to be fitting in about as well as can be expected on the Ptolemy, when he's wearing your face and everyone else is still clearly reeling from the similarities. Miss Sumeragi has come back as well, and you're hopeful—as Feldt and Mileina spend all of their spare time looking for Allelujah—that they'll uncover his location soon. The Twin Drive is (if not stabilized) at least useable, and Lyle's piloting scores make it clear to you that he's been in a cockpit before. You're confident your brother and friends will be able to pull off Allelujah's rescue.

You frown at the way Feldt actively avoids your brother, frown at the amount of alcohol Miss Sumeragi consumes alone in her room—but Lyle's scores only get better, and Feldt and Mileina are stubborn and good at their jobs.

You're hanging out on the bridge when Wang Liu Mei sends her information, and you feel the bottom drop out of your stomach as Feldt parses through the prison schematic quickly, her eyes flickering across the screen until she catches Allelujah's name at the same time you do. Mileina and Lasse turn as she tells them in a high-pitched voice, as she quickly opens up a comm link to the rest of the ship to meet in the conference room—that they've found Allelujah.

Even Sumeragi shows up, unsteady and out of breath but with wide, desperate eyes, and when the rest of the crew all but begs her to come up with a battle plan, you join your voice to theirs. The prison was certainly well-guarded internally, and surely (if they feel safe leaving a Gundam Meister there) the outside is equally armed to the teeth. If they are to have any hope of rescuing Allelujah, they will need their best mind on a plan.

Even Lyle looks interested in this rescue operation, despite his slouched posture and his annoyed comments, and you frown briefly at him, wondering what he's doing. You know your brother well enough to know that he would never betray Celestial Being in cold blood, but that doesn't mean he can't have ulterior motives.

Sumeragi looks at them all, the dark bags under her eyes and her unwashed hair lank down her back, but she eventually nods, promising to have a battle plan sent out by the next day, and pushes off unsteadily for her cabin.

The conference room bursts into excitement in her wake, and Feldt's smile is broader than you think you've ever seen—and even Setsuna is smiling a little, something you've never seen on his face before. Lyle looks around the room with a small smile before heading out the door as well, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, and Lasse says he'll start heading toward orbit above the prison, waiting for orders.

The rest start trickling out after him, more cheer on their faces than there ever has been, and you find yourself smiling broadly at them all. As your consciousness starts to fade, you realize you'll be able to give the good news to Allelujah—and no matter what the government might have shown him, he will be free and among friends soon enough.

* * *

18—

Allelujah is still in his cell, but he is not alone—there are half a dozen men in suits surrounding a slight young woman a couple of feet from him. Her hair is pale even in this dim light, and her back is straight as an officer's as she stares at Allelujah.

His gag is off, and his voice is hoarse and desperate as he talks to her, calls her Marie—and you wonder in surprise whether he knows her. You hesitate before looking to her, but her expression is severe, and she does not seem moved.

"That's not my name," she says harshly, and Allelujah recoils, his face full of disbelief even from your angle. The woman's face is unforgiving, and this seems to hurt him just as much as her rejection—and he retreats, refuses to answer any of the officers' questions until they eventually re-apply the gag, leaving the cell silently. The woman does not look back, but Allelujah stares after her for long moments even after the cell door has slammed closed.

"Who's Marie?" you ask, breaking the silence a bit awkwardly, momentarily distracted from your mission. Allelujah jumps badly and turns to look at you, his eyes wide.

 _Why are you here?_ he asks, a little harshly, looking almost immediately away. _I told you to stay away._

"And I've told you, I don't have a whole lot of choice," you shoot back, crossing your arms over your chest. "But look, the others—they've found you, Miss Sumeragi's putting together a battle plan. They'll be here within a couple of days!"

Allelujah does not respond, but it's obvious he's upset by your presence. This time, though, you're not going to back down. "The military—they must have doctored that video," you continue, desperate for some sort of traction. "And why would they wait four years to tell you, anyway? That doesn't make any sense—"

 _Seemed real enough to me,_ he says quietly, and you don't have much of a response to that—but if there's any way—

"They've—Setsuna's back, and they recruited my brother to pilot Cherudim," you say, more to impart information than to actually convince him. "Lyle, I told you about him, yeah? Doesn't seem happy about taking my place, but he agreed—and he's not a bad pilot."

Allelujah's frown deepens considerably, and you grimace as he does not respond. "So who's Marie?" you ask eventually, because if he's not going to be convinced, you're honestly curious about this.

 _She was my friend,_ he says after several moments, and you're surprised he answers at all. _In the Institute._ You get a sudden mental image of a girl in a stasis pod, her gaze blank and staring—and Allelujah's right, she bears an uncanny resemblance to the woman who was just standing in this cell. But in his memories she's clearly in a coma, or at least unwell—and you frown at him, wondering—

 _We could talk over quantum brainwaves,_ Allelujah explains, and you blink at him. _She's—I thought I killed her, when I destroyed that place. But she piloted the pink Tieren._

Your eye grows even wider, and you consider this. Miss Sumeragi had long suspected that that particular pilot had been a super soldier as well, with the way their reflexes matched Allelujah's and the way they gave him those awful headaches, but—for her to be someone Allelujah _knew_ —

 _She doesn't remember me,_ he says, and his voice is quiet, distressed. _It's her, but she doesn't remember, and…_

He trails off, miserable, and you hesitate. "Maybe—the institute wiped her memories, somehow?" you suggest, and then another thought occurs to you that you think might not go over so well. "Or...could there be two people in her head? Like..."

You let the sentence hang, but Allelujah clearly understands your intention. _Marie would never have someone like Hallelujah in her head,_ he says harshly, and you blink—you didn't know that that second personality in your friend's head has a name, and there's something disturbing about that fact—that a persona created by trauma and experimentation has such a solid presence. _She's too kind—she would never—_

You frown at the implications of this (because Allelujah is the kindest person you've ever met), but another thought strikes you: something you think you should have realized a long time ago. "I'm reading your thoughts," you say slowly, and Allelujah agrees, obviously unsure of where you're taking this. "Shouldn't—shouldn't I be able to hear Hallelujah, too?"

His face twists, and you frown at him, unsure. _He died,_ he says shortly, looking down to his feet. _In the battle, we both should have died. But he went first, and…_

He doesn't seem to be mourning him, exactly (and from what little you know of Hallelujah, you see very little to mourn), but you suppose that the loss of someone with whom you share a brain must have been a shock. "I'm sorry," you offer after a moment. "For what it's worth, I'm very glad you're the one still alive."

Allelujah snorts quietly, and does not answer.

* * *

19—

You're there for far longer than Allelujah would like, clearly, and at your next mention of the others, he directs you to the corner of the cell again, his voice choked, and he does not speak to you again.

You don't doze, not exactly—but your mind certainly wanders, and some time later, you're pulled sharply from your thoughts at the sound of a distant explosion. You clamber to your feet, your eye widening as you realize what this must be. You step toward Allelujah, loud and clumsy in your excitement, and he does not shoo you away; his wide-eyed gaze is locked on the door.

"They're here," you say, your voice hushed, and Allelujah does not disagree.

The explosions turn to mobile suit battle, and that eventually turns to gunfire within the walls of the prison. Allelujah scarcely seems to be breathing as his gaze does not stray, and you fight the impulse to go out into the hallway and check on the status of the battle. You're sure that someone will be infiltrating the prison to free Allelujah—and you trust your friends well enough to wait for them to do so.

Sure enough, the gunfire is drawing closer, and Allelujah is unconsciously leaning forward against the restraints as you find your hands shaking at your sides. The door explodes inwards only a few seconds later, and then Setsuna is standing there, silhouetted against the bright fluorescent lights outside. You squint as your eye adjusts and look instead toward Allelujah, whose face has turned a strange shade of gray.

There are four gunshots and then Allelujah is standing, reaching behind his head to remove the gag and staring at your friend in something approaching terror. "Go to this point," Setsuna says, tossing him a terminal that he catches on reflex, glancing down. "Arios will be there."

Allelujah does not question him, only looks askance to you, his eyes wide at the familiar name. After all, you have described his new Gundam to him many times, as it's taken form over the years—and he knows the name well.

Setsuna frowns at him as he is distracted, glancing in your direction as well; after a moment, his expression shifts. "We have a time limit," he says eventually, and there's something like understanding in his voice as he turns away. "Don't wait too long."

Allelujah makes a vague noise that might be in agreement, and then Setsuna is leaving the cell with one last, blind glance in your direction. "You should go," you say, and Allelujah shakes his head, stepping a little closer to you on shaky legs.

"You were right," he says, and his voice is hoarse and broken as he stares at you in wonder. "They're..."

"I won't say I told you so," you say with a little grin, "but—well…"

Allelujah's face twists, and he reaches out tentatively toward your shoulder. His hand goes straight through it, and he stares before letting his face fall. "Are you coming with us?" he asks quietly, resigned, and you shake your head.

"I'm disappearing, aren't I?" you ask, and Allelujah nods a bit. "The same thing happened with Tieria and Setsuna too, months ago."

"What's going to happen to you?" he asks, and even after all this time—even after being a prisoner of war for _four years—_ he is more worried about the well-being of his dead friend than getting himself to safety.

"Dunno," you say, and Allelujah frowns. And it's the truth—you have no idea what's waiting for you, but you're sure you're not staying here; your ears are starting to ring, and your already ruined vision has grown dimmer still. "But you're safe now, and that's the important part. You should get going—you don't want to worry the others."

"I—" he chokes off, his eyes wide, and waves his free hand wildly. "I don't understand. Why are you here?"

Your smile grows a bit warmer as Allelujah starts squinting, his face falling further. This much, at least, you can answer; after thinking on this for years, you've only been able to come up with one reason.

"Because a Gundam Meister is never alone."

He sobs, then, reaching futilely for you. "Can't you stay?" he asks, his voice very far away, but you shake your head. The world around you is growing darker, and Allelujah's face is fading as he asks after you only more desperately. You can see his mouth moving but the words are beyond your reach—and you only allow your smile to grow wider, hoping Allelujah can still see even as your own vision has all but gone black.

In the distance, you think you hear your mother's voice, and your smile grows broader still.


End file.
